You know, I've never been as happy as this morning. We were walking on a beach, a bit like this one. It was autumn. An autumn where it was sunny. A season that only exists in North America. Over there, we call it the Indian summer. But it was simply ours. With your long dress, you looked like a watercolour by Marie Laurencin. And I remember, I remember very well what I told you that morning. There is a year. There is a century. There is an eternity. We'll go Where you want, when you want And we'll love each other again When love is dead All our life will be the same this morning In the colour of the Indian summer Today, I'm very far from this autumn morning. But it's as if I was there. I think of you. Where are you? What are you doing? Do I still exist for you? I look at this wave that will never reach the dune. You see, like it, I go back. Like it, I lie down on the sand. And I remember. I remember the high tides. The sun and the happiness that passed over the sea. An eternity. A century. A year ago. We'll go Where you want, when you want And we'll love each other again When love is dead All our life will be the same this morning In the colour of the Indian summer We'll go Where you want, when you want And we'll love each other again When love is dead All our life will be the same this morning In the colour of the Indian summer www.mooji.org